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“Sloppy?” he asked with a frown. “Yeah…I mean, a fork to the gut would hurt like a bitch and all. But I’ve gotta think I’m winning with a knife to your jugular.” I shifted my other hand so that the plastic knife scraped along the stubble at his throat to draw his attention to it and his smile widened with excitement. “Well, shit,” he purred. “Looks like I’m done for. You wanna grant a dying man a final request?” — Caroline Peckham
Sloppy?” he asked with a frown.
“Yeah…I mean, a fork to the gut would hurt like a bitch and all. But I’ve gotta think I’m winning with a knife to your jugular.” I shifted my other hand so that the plastic knife scraped along the stubble at his throat to draw his attention to it and his smile widened with excitement.
“Well, shit,” he purred. “Looks like I’m done for. You wanna grant a dying man a final request?